Evolution
by TwinEnigma
Summary: Sequel to Replica. After the war, two members of a covert squad struggle to find their identities and free themselves. All they know is that they are all clones of two people - one of whom was Sasuke Uchiha. Violence, language, futurefic
1. Prologue

_**Evolution**_

**By TwinEnigma**

_Warnings: Violence, language, AU, futurefic_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and do not do this for profit.  
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* * *

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**Prologue**

It is night, deep within the forest, and the low noise of laughter and conversation cuts through the normal sounds of the night. The source is a small campsite, the fire pit burning like a beacon in the darkness, and the men sitting around the fire.

There are seven men in total, each one a mercenary, and each bearing the logo of a trading company somewhere on their armor or clothing and the country standard of Fire below it. Each man is different – one has dyed his hair blond and carries a sword, one carries a naginata and another fletches a new arrow – and yet, these men share a strong resemblance to one another that makes it impossible to deny their relation.

They are family, all of them, and they are unaware they are being observed from the undergrowth.

He's been tracking them for days now, gathering data on these men, their weapons, their contacts and their habits, but he's never been this close to them. This close, it's easy to see how much these men resemble each other.

"So I get to the top and what do I see there?" the one with the naginata – Ryuuhachi Shijuu, he recalls – pauses and then adds, "The biggest fucking palace in all Fire and she's standing on top, wearing nothing but clouds and a smile. And Chiya just looks at me and says _if you don't get your fucking ass over here..._"

The others laugh loudly and one of them reaches forward to stir the fire. Another stands, claps Ryuuhachi on the back, excuses himself to take a piss and disappears into the trees on the other side of the clearing.

Their observer shifts a little so he can get a better look at the one with the dyed hair – Kishichirou Shijuu, the de-facto leader of the brothers, he recalls. Of the brothers, he is the most readily identifiable. The right half of his face and nose are bisected by a thick scar that he makes no attempt to conceal and a smaller scar follows his left cheekbone. The sword he sharpens with a whetstone is short and straight, consistent with Konoha ANBU issue and well-maintained.

"Bravo, target leader confirmed weapon, Kilo Alpha Nike Bravo Uniform," he whispers into the throat mic.

"Affirmative, Alpha," his partner's voice buzzes in his ear.

The observer turns his gaze to the next man.

"Abort, abort!" the radio suddenly squawks as a pair of hands shoot out of the underbrush right in front of him. He launches backwards, flipping and landing feet-first on a tree trunk, and then springs away just in time to avoid being peppered with shuriken and kunai.

There's shouting now from the campsite and he can hear cursing from his first attacker, who'd only managed to tear his mask.

"Alpha, retreat to grid nine!" his partner shouts in his ear. "Do not engage, repeat, do not engage!"

"Affirmative," he says, ducking into a roll to avoid the next volley, and lands on his feet and running parallel to the campsite.

A gloved fist smashes into his face and sends him reeling back, momentarily disoriented from the force of the blow. Dimly, he's aware it's knocked his earpiece clean out of his ear. Training kicks in and he rights himself in time to duck a vicious backhand with a blade. He flicks his wrist, blade sliding down his sleeve and into his hand, and jabs forward, using his attacker's momentum to flip them over and drive the blade through his throat for the killing blow.

There is a moment of deafening silence.

It's one of the brothers, the one who'd left to relieve himself. Hot blood sputters over his fingers from the wound and for the first time, he sees one of the brothers face-to-face. Lines, dark in the dim light, trace down his cheeks and the darkening Sharingan eyes stare up at him with dimming awareness, blood trailing from his mouth.

This face... he knows this face.

The dying man's hand is raised, two fingers curled, and suddenly he sees someone else in his place: another dying man, one he knows, but has never seen before.

_I'm sorry, Sasuke._ The strange face in his mind smiles at him. _There won't be a next time._

Who is Sasuke?

_"BROTHER!"_ someone screams, absolutely enraged.

He looks up, startled, and the world bleeds into another, the red and white _uchiwa_ spattered with blood and bodies surrounding him.

Uchiwa.

Uchiha.

_Sasuke Uchiha._

"What have you done?" the archer shouts and in the dim light he looks like someone else.

Fugaku. Father.

His eyes dart between the figures now.

Cousin Kyouji, uncle Hiroto, Inabi, cousin Meigetsu, Mugen...

He looks down – it is uncle Kagerou – and lets go of the blade as if burned. His hands are covered in blood, the blood of his clan.

_I killed them to test my capacity._

That was... _him_. Itachi, _brother... _But he was lying... and this...

"Oh Sage's balls," one of them says in dawning surprise, "Look at his face! He's one of us!"

He cries out in horror, turning and scrabbling backwards.

Avoiding the hands grabbing for him and the shouting of the men behind him, he _runs._

* * *

_One week later:_

He sits on the floor of the cave, rocking back and forth.

It's cool and damp.

He closes his eyes and he sees _water, snakes, hawk, snow, bridge, Itachi, brother, mommy, daddy, bloodbloodblood. _

He remembers so much now. It's all jumbled up, like bits of broken and jagged glass, but he _remembers._

Footsteps echo through the cave. They are too heavy to belong to Bravo.

He looks up.

Above him is a figure in a black cloak and uniform identical to his own. In his hand is a tanto. Under the hood, he can see his face.

_Their face._

"Why didn't you return to base?"

"I killed him," he answers, wide-eyed. "I wasn't supposed to – not yet. Itachi did it before, you see? But Itachi is dead and now I killed him, so do I have to do it? I don't want to do it! I can't kill the clan, I can't... but they're dead and I remember that, because..."

He claws at his scalp.

"I'm Sasuke, or – no, I can't be Sasuke. _You_ must be him because you're here to kill me. Sasuke is supposed to kill Itachi. So, I must be Itachi, understand?"

It is clear that the _other_ doesn't understand.

"I'll show you," he insists and launches at him, pulling all his chakra to his eyes and ignoring the other's wide, alarmed eyes as he practically impales himself on the other's tanto. "_Tsukiyomi!"_

The other begins to scream as he shows him _everything_.

* * *

**AN:** This is a sequel to Replica, but it won't be necessary to read it to understand what's going on.

You haven't seen the last of the Shijuu brothers, that's all I'll say.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Evolution**_

**By TwinEnigma**

_Warnings for chapter: violence_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

He is standing in a field.

There is a figure in a black, hooded cloak in front of him.

_"Tell me,"_ a voice says, _"What will you do when you run out of us to kill?"_

He looks down and there's a blade stuck through his stomach, the hand of the cloaked figure holding the hilt. He raises his head, staring into piercing Sharingan red eyes in a pale face framed with messy black hair, and reaches for the face of the cloaked figure. His fingers brush cloth – a mask – and he pulls as his knees buckle beneath him.

_"Will they make you turn your blade on yourself?"_ the voice asks.

The face that stares down at him with cold and distant eyes is _his own._

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He sits up in his bunk with a start, his heartbeat pounding like thunder in his ears. His hand drifts to his stomach, but his fingers find only smooth skin, and, shakily, he runs a hand through his hair.

The intercom crackles.

"One-One-Six Alpha, your heart rate is elevated. What is your status?"

In the bunk across from him, his partner stirs slightly and rolls onto her side to look at him with red eyes. His eyes flick from her to the camera mounted above the door, its lens trained on him. The red light below the lens is on.

"Functional," he replies.

The camera lens shifts. It then returns to the center position and the red light blinks off.

His fingers again drift towards his stomach.

"What's wrong?" his partner whispers.

He hesitates and then leans back, staring up at the blank white ceiling. "Nothing," he whispers back at last.

_"Tell me. What will you do...?"_ the voice, older but still so very familiar, echoes in his ears, though its owner is dead.

He closes his eyes, ignoring it, and tries to go back to sleep.

He still feels the blade piercing him.

* * *

One-One-Six Alpha wakes up automatically several hours later and blinks wearily, before standing and approaching his locker. He is unused to this sensation and, idly, he wonders if the previous night's _aberration_ is responsible for his current state. He is still functional regardless and so deems it irrelevant.

He and his partner dress in their black standard uniforms and assist each other in securing their armor and weapons. Her red hair is coming loose from her braid and he quickly addresses this, reweaving it into a tighter braid. The last items they don are their black half-masks and the black cloaks.

"One-One-Six Alpha, ready," he says.

"One-One-Six Bravo, ready," she says.

The camera above the door focuses on them, the red light on.

"One-One-Six, you are clear to proceed to Section 7," the intercom announces.

"Affirmative," they both answer.

The door slides open with a hydraulic hiss.

They step out one at a time, him first, and then stand beside each other outside the door, facing the opposite side of the hall. Across from them, team One-One-Seven mirrors them perfectly. The door closes and they turn 90 degrees to their left, allowing them to see the backs of team One-One-Four. On the opposite side of the hall, the other teams turn 90 degrees to their right in perfect precision.

As one, they move forward towards Section 7.

* * *

Their handler is Mister Green. He is a skinny, sharp-faced man in a crisp white uniform and stares at them through thin-framed glasses. A plastic-coated badge displays his photo, a bar code, and a logo. On his desk are neat stacks of files.

The door hisses closed and they stand at attention in front of the desk.

"One-One-Six, at ease," Mister Green says.

Immediately, they widen their stances, dropping their arms behind their backs.

"One-One-Six, you have a new mission," Mister Green pauses, opening a folder in front of him. He skims it, spins it around and pushes it towards them, adding, "You will proceed to the following location and terminate the target. Report to Section 7 West Elevator."

One-One-Six Alpha picks up the folder and, in tandem, he and his partner reply, "Yes, sir."

"You are dismissed," Mister Green says and presses a button.

The door hisses open.

One-One-Six exits in single file, passing by the waiting team One-One-Seven.

* * *

The target is a male businessman of average build, aged forty-nine, and lives alone in a town about a half day's journey from base. He resides in the penthouse of a moderately expensive apartment building and has hired several chuunin to protect him. With a quick scout of the perimeter, they are able to determine the hired ninja are from Konoha.

One-One-Six Bravo guides Alpha past the chuunin by radio from the rooftop of a nearby building. Ten times she orders him to stop, relocate, and then gives the all-clear to move on and disarm the traps. When she informs him that the chakra of the last guard has moved past his position, he makes his move, slipping into the bedroom. It is there that he finds his target in bed, sleeping soundly.

There is a moment when he presses his hand over the target's mouth and nose where the target regains consciousness and stares at him in horrified recognition. The target begins to struggle, so he presses down harder and leans his full weight onto the target's chest. He does not move until the target has ceased all movement.

"Alpha, target chakra has ceased," his earpiece buzzes.

"Affirmative, Bravo," he responds quietly into his throat mic.

"Alpha, commence sanitation and proceed to Checkpoint Two," comes her next response.

"Affirmative, Bravo," he says quietly and moves towards the center of the room.

He sets up a small bundle and fixes several explosive notes on a short timer to it, activating them. He then moves towards the window, disables two more traps and slides the curtains open. They flutter ominously as moonlight cuts a swath of light across the room and, out of the corner of his eye, he notes a flash of light.

He turns, shuriken in hand, and stops when he sees no threat.

It's only a badge on the desk, covered in plastic.

One-One-Six Alpha silently approaches the desk and picks it up. The logo on it is identical to the one Mister Green wears, but the barcode and layout are different. The photo matches that of the target. He puts it back down, heads to the window, slides it open and leaves.

The explosion shatters several windows on neighboring buildings, but they are already halfway across the city by that time.

* * *

"Report," Mister Green orders.

"Target eliminated, sir," One-One-Six Alpha responds. "Contact with non-target hostiles was avoided."

Mister Green nods, making a note in the folder. "Anything else to add?"

"The non-target hostiles were from Konoha, sir," Bravo notes, "Five, approximately chuunin rank."

Mister Green's hand pauses. "Nothing unusual occurred, did it?"

"No, sir," Bravo states, "The mission was completed within optimal parameters."

"Very good," Mister Green says and presses the button to open the door. "Excellent job, One-One-Six. You are dismissed. You may return to your bunk."

"Yes, sir," they say in chorus and leave.

* * *

The door to their room slides closed and they help each other out of their gear. One at a time, they clean themselves up in their small washroom and dress in their sleep uniforms. They then lie down in their bunks and, eventually, Bravo's breathing evens out into a sleep rhythm.

Alpha stares at the blank ceiling.

The target's horrified expression lingers in his mind with a perplexing intensity. He supposes it might be that the target had recognized him and had the same logo on his badge as their handler. But Alpha is unable to remember ever seeing the target before that file had been handed to them. Additionally, Alpha doesn't understand why he should think of it. He has killed targets many times before and they have never crossed his mind again.

_"What will you do when you run out of us to kill?"_

For a moment, the memory of another recent target's face flashes in his mind.

Alpha rolls onto his side, blinking. He doesn't understand why he is thinking of this now. It's not like him.

The number _B3-116_ is stark on his right wrist and he reaches up to rub it absently, recalling another set of numbers, _B2-012_, in faded black ink on that target's wrist.

_"Will they make you turn your blade on yourself?"_

The target was in his thirties, with longer, dark black hair and dark grey eyes, but Alpha knows the face very well. It was very much like the one he has seen in reflected in Bravo's glasses before they put on the masks, just older.

His stomach curdles and he briefly wonders if he is malfunctioning. Yes, he supposes, it has to be a malfunction. That would explain this _aberration_.

And yet there is nothing wrong with him that he can specifically quantify.

_"Tell me, what will you do...?"_

Alpha closes his eyes.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Welcome to the "Facility," as I have dubbed it.

I wanted this chapter to have a very cold, clinical, almost automated feel to it. These "clones" are hardly treated as human.

This chapter actually refers to an event in "Replica" (namely regarding B2-012), but you don't need to read that to get it - this story will shed more light on it.

116 Alpha is a clone of Sasuke. 116 Bravo is a clone of Karin.


End file.
